


Castles in the Sand

by Eberrylee



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7063546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eberrylee/pseuds/Eberrylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And suddenly, I was back where it had all began. Staring into Jamie’s eyes as I struggled with his dislocated shoulder I had come to realize that I had done this before, had come this way already. Like a familiar path, I could anticipate the pitfalls ahead.  I knew the men surrounding me, what motivated them and how they were likely to react. Some were even my friends, though they didn’t know that yet. And Jamie. Jamie didn’t know what we would become either. But, in that moment, he trusted me to tend to his injuries. In time, I would teach him to trust me with his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sassenach

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU Fix-It of Season/Book 1.

_**Claire** _

I squinted as I opened my eyes. It should be raining right now, it was always raining during a funeral, and this certainly felt no different. Instead, the sun was shining merrily from the heavens, completely unaware and uncaring of the tragedy unfolding on planet Earth. I had lost everyone, even if they had won the battle, even if they survived, they were gone now.

My grief was so great that I could barely give notice to my surroundings. The stones of Craigh na Dun would give me no clues to the outcome of the battle, and I might have stayed atop the hill, if not for my burning desire to know if we had changed anything at all. I needed to know if Jamie had survived.

The sound of a not too distant gun firing sent a chill up my spine and I dropped to a crouch. Were the Scots still fighting today, had we avoided the annihilation of the clan’s way of life and instead brought about 200 years of war?

My dark dress aided my concealment as I slunk through the shadowed trees, dreading what I might find. I needed more information to determine who might be friend or foe. A voice, eerily similar to Angus’s, shouted obscenities off to my right. A glimmer of hope and a healthy dose of anxiety formed in my breast. Until that moment it hadn’t even dawned on me that I might not be back in the twentieth-century. I stood, surveying the hillside before me. The ground had been roughed up, not by mortar shells, but by horses. A band of kilted men were darting across the clearing, six cavalrymen in red were in hot pursuit.

I once again blundered into a skirmish between the highlanders and the red coats.

Their poorly aimed musket shots went wide, sinking into the wood around me. I flattened myself against a large fir and took stock of what I knew. It was a typical Scottish afternoon. The air was thick with moisture, and cold, but not biting like the dead of winter. There were few flowers in bloom, it must be fall. I had traveled through time, but how far, and in which direction? The weaponry and clothing were not a definitive guide to when I was. Muskets had been used for well over one hundred years and the red coats would never fully go out of style. The dense underbrush hid me as I crawled towards the ravine ahead. I needed to see if Inverness looked any different. Would I see a Scottish flag flying, or perhaps another conquering country had invaded. I flinched each time the a shot was fired, even as they moved further away. I didn’t want to be spotted, or get hit.

I peered over the ledge, trying to make out any structures in the distance when movement from below caught my eye. A large horse, kitted out in the armaments of the British Royal Army, was tethered to a branch. The casual swish of his tail was what caught my eye, but the image to the horse’s right stopped my heart. I was looking down into the same ravine that held Jamie’s tormenter.

I had landed back in 1743.

* * *

_**Jamie** _

She was asleep, that much I ken. Her dark hair tickled my nose as we rode through the moonless night. This wee sassenach was braw for certain, standing up to Dougal and the rest of the lads. She had a nice touch, gentle and firm. I wouldna thought such a small thing could have such strength to force my shoulder back into place. Holding her now, I ken she was half starved and maybe worse by the looks of the tattered remains of her clothing. Where had she been that sitting atop a horse in the arms of a stranger and despite being surrounded by men who might do her harm, she still felt safe enough to sleep? The whole dirty lot of us stank to high heaven and looked like highwaymen, if one was being generous. I was no exception, yet here she was, tucked under ma plaid, sheltered and safe. If my uncle could make me feel like a boy fighting with a wooden sword, this lass made me feel like a man. Like mebbe, she ken I no would let harm come to her.

I hadna expected riding with her to be so easy, especially without the use of my right arm, but she sat astride the horse as if she had been born to it. Jenny had never been this easy to ride with, she always fought to control the horse, but this wee lass rode like a Scot, like me. She mimicked each press of my thigh as I guided the horse through the night.

What were the chances a stray sassenach lassie, who knew how to mend injured soldiers, would be ambling about the countryside. Perhaps Mistress Beauchamp was a guardian angel, sent to save me. I huffed out a silent laugh at the thought. The Lord Almighty had done me no particular favors in the past, and I couldna see him starting now.

“Dinna fash” I shushed her when she began stirring. “Ye are safe wit me sassenach.” She quieted down as I spoke, so I continued, regaling her sleeping body with stories from my time in France. Skirmishes I had fought in, proving that I was capable of protecting her. The words slipped past my lips, mostly in English. Not that she could hear.

“Did ye hit your heid when you fell off ye horse, lad?” Murtagh asked, scowling at me through his bushy eyebrows. I hadn’t realized he had stopped his whispered debate with Dougal.

“No, only my shoulder.”

“Aye, and the lassie fixed that up then? So, I ask, why are you yammering on as if ye lost all sense?”

“I dinna want to fall asleep on my horse, and you were’na here to keep me company.”

Murtagh grunted, “Dougal wanted to know more about the lady’s arrival.”

Had Murtagh and Dougal been talking about Mistress Beachamp? Last I had paid heed, they had been intensely debating women of loose moral character, and surprisingly, Crainsmuir’s fiscal. Surely they would no be leaving her in the village. She should meet the Laird and then stay in the keep.

“And, what did you say on the lady’s behalf?”

Murtagh hesitated at this question, looking long and hard at the woman slumped against my chest.  
“She was fighting off an Englishman, he was trying to take her, and she was no having any of it. I doubt the lass expected rescue to come from the Highlands, but there it was. She seemed most grateful to be rid of the Captain. I brought her with me and you ken the rest.”

A chill ran down my spine with the way he said ‘captain.’

“Was it Randall?”

“Aye.”

I looked down at her hands and skirts more carefully, maybe some of what I had thought was dirt was actually that mad bastard’s blood. The thought of her being an avenging angel made me grin. Murtagh grunted when I asked him if he agreed.

“No laddie, I dinna ken what she is, but she is no an angel.”

“You dinna think she is a whore then?” I asked incredulously.

“No, I ken she is no whore. And I’ll say no more on the subject or wee Claire Beachamp, angel or no.”

We rode on in silence, a stalemate until Mistress Beachamp sleepily asked me if I was there when Ian had lost his leg.

Murtagh looked at the woman in my arms and whispered “An angel would no ask a question like that.”

And I didn’t know if he was giving me proof she was no an angel me or scolding her for being rude.

* * *

_**Claire** _

I awoke abruptly when I realized the world was no longer dark. Where were we? How far until the ambush? Our trip from the cottage by Craigh na Dun to Castle Leoch seemed to start out just as it had before. Dougal directed me to join Jamie on his horse and to not attempt ‘anything’ while I was upon it. Jamie once again gallantly covered us with his plaid, though the effort was marred by his nearly sending us both off the saddle in the process. I had fallen asleep basking in his warmth.

“Mistress? Ye awake?” Jamie prodded.

“Yes” I responded distractedly. I was trying to tamp down on my morning nausea when I realized Murtagh was handing him a small bundle. This was different, had I already changed our course, and was it for the better?

“Have a wee bite, I dinna know whose care you’ve been under, but I’ll no let ye starve now.”

Those words, so close to his first proclamation to protect me that a small dam broke. A stifled the sob welling up inside me and bit into the cold bannock.

I ate slowly, the bannock doing much to quell the sickness that was threatening to make an appearance. Could I save some of it for the following morning, would he notice, and if he did, would he think it odd?

We rode on for the most of the day, stopping rarely in our pursuit of the safety the the MacKenzie lands would provide. It was early afternoon when I noticed Cocknammon rock.

“I know this place.”

“Aye, you’ve travelled this way before?”

“Well, no,” I replied, trying to remember what I had told him last time. “That rock, the one looks like a rooster’s tail, I was told it was dangerous to go there.”

“Cocknammon Rock? Who told you to be scairt o’ that bit of dirt?”

“I’m not scared,” I frowned at him, even though he couldn’t see my expression, “but I heard that the English use for ambushes.”

Jamie tensed behind me, then urged the horse forward, quickly catching up with Dougal. Their conversation, in Gaelic, once again ended me being dumped in the bushes without so much as a ‘by your leave.’

The firing started in earnest and I quickly tried to recreate my blind attempt at an escape. Perhaps I could find some berries and fresh water while I waited for Jamie’s rescue. That drew me up short, what if another of the men found me first, would I have to ride with them, could I lose the fragile relationship I was building with Jamie? I heard the sound of a horse behind me and almost cried out with joy when I saw Jamie, soaked in blood, dismount.

“Lost your way?” His sword was still drawn and I knew he was still riding the high of battle.

“You’re hurt.”

“This lot isna my blood.” his smile was cocky as he continued toward me, “Not much of it anyway.”

“Well, I hope you haven't been misusing that shoulder” I said struggling with the decision I now faced.

“We should go, Dougal and the others will be waiting further up the stream.”

“I’m not going with you!” I was stalling now, I knew he wasn’t going to leave me, but I had to decide, should I treat the wound now he hadn’t noticed, or wait until he passes out from blood loss. Jamie had told me years ago that he knew I was the one when he woke with me tending to his wound in the dark. Was there something special about that moment, did the starlight add some quantity of romance, or could I just force the issue and staunch the bleeding right now?

“Yes, you are.”

I looked at his sword, why did he have it drawn? Did he still think there was a threat, did he think I was a threat? “What, are you going to cut my throat if I don’t?”

“Why no. Ye don’t look that heavy. Now if ye won’t walk, I shall pick you up and throw you over my shoulder. Do you want me to do that?”

“No!”

“Well, then” he smiled before grabbing my arm “I suppose that means you’re coming with me."

* * *

As we entered the courtyard of Castle Leoch I vowed that this time would be different. Three days ago Jamie had sent me through the stones. He wanted to see me safe and to ensure the safety of our yet unborn child. Touching those stones, allowing them to rip me out of his life knowing that he was going to the ill fated fields of Culloden, was the hardest thing I had ever done. I remember wishing that I could go back and change it all, avert the events that had led us to this point.

I hadn’t wanted to leave him, now I wouldn’t have to.

I was back where it had all began. Staring into Jamie’s eyes as I struggled with his dislocated shoulder I had come to realize that I had done this before, had come this way already. Like a familiar path, I could anticipate the pitfalls ahead. I knew the men surrounding me, what motivated them and how they were likely to react. Some were even my friends, though they didn’t know that yet. And Jamie. Jamie didn’t know what we would become either. But, in that moment, he trusted me to tend to his injuries. In time, I would teach him to trust me with his heart.

Two nights ago, in that dark cabin, I vowed that I would never do as the folk song had said. I would not be taking back up with my old life in 1946. We hadn’t been able to change the fate of the Scots, but perhaps I knew enough now to change our future. To save Jamie and our family.


	2. Castle Leoch: Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire arrives at Castle Leoch and works to recreate the conditions that caused Colum and Dougal to keep her close and for Jamie to fall in love.

_**Claire** _

The cold walls of Castle Leoch felt just as foreboding as the first time Mrs. Fitz guided Jamie and me through the torchlit stone corridors. Memories of my past life in this castle sprang up around me. We past the aromatic kitchen and I stumbled briefly, over-correcting when my feet automatically veered in the direction of my old surgery.

“Lass?” Jamie asked, as a steadying hand reached for my elbow.

“Don’t mind me, just, the horses, we were riding. A lot.” I stuttered out trying to cover my lapse in attention with by blaming it on fatigue. Not that I wasn’t tired. After the skirmish with the redcoats I had been fueled by adrenaline and worry. First over the blood loss I knew Jamie was suffering. Then, the agonizing wait for him to tumble off the horse. Each hitch in his breath and I would think, here it is, he’s going to fall now, I can bind the wound, and then the worst will be over. For hours we traveled, Jamie sitting resolutely behind me. Any query into his well being was met with derision, though by dusk he certainly knew had been shot, badly. When he did fall, I was helpless to do anything but call out. I made the dressing out of the hem of my skirt, hating that it was surely far more filthy than the original dress which had been freshly laundered in the 20th century.

“Well then,” I could hear the grin in his voice, “the offer to carry you on my shoulder still stands.”

I shook my head, smiling to myself. “Keep walking soldier.”

“Ah, here we are,” Mrs. Fitz announced. “You help Jamie get settled, I’ll be right back with your herbs.” The door clicked shut as Mrs. Fitz left me to tend to Jamie.

He looked worn out, leaning towards the fire, days of hard riding evident in his drooping eyes. I set to work, stripping his torso bare. I helped him remove the baldric holding his sword and the belth with his dirk before guiding him to the stool in front of the fire. Besides the small grunts of pain as I worked the tight coat free from the abused shoulder he made no noise. He didn’t speak until I removed his shirt, revealing his back. The silvery criss cross of scar tissue, the marks of British injustice.

I let him talk, as I busied myself with the bandage on his shoulder. He told me of what had happened to Jenny, and his subsequent beating at the hands of Randall. I listened silently, only remarking when the memories swallowed him. I knew that Jenny hadn’t been raped, that she was married with a little cherub cheeked boy and another on the way. She was with a man she loved, a man that Jamie loved like a brother, but I couldn’t tell him any of that. Not yet. I could only offer him sympathy, but not the solace that he didn’t have to fear Black Jack Randall coming into his life again. Even if nothing else worked out for the best, I had granted him that. Wentworth would not happen, he would not be trapped by that beast again.

Mrs. Fitz brought in the herbs, a poultice, kettles of water and dozens of strips of cloth for bandages. I set to organizing my supplies and she had a quick conversation with Jamie before leaving once again. She also graced me with the privilege of calling her Mrs. Fitz. A breathed a sigh of relieve. My relationship with Mrs. Fitz appeared to be following the same path. The bandages were boiling in the pot by the fire and my field dressing was as good as glued to his skin. He watched me in silence as I placed a drenched cloth atop the old bandage.

“The dressing will have to soak for a bit before I can take it off.”

“As you say.”

I couldn’t be completely clinical, he was still my husband, minus a few dozen scars. Dirty and in pain, even if he didn’t show it. I wanted to see him, to reacquaint myself with this version of him. I needed to sink into his embrace, for him to declare himself my protector. I settled for exploring this younger body under the pretense of wiping away the dirt, sweat and blood that had accumulated during our journey. I started with his face, tilting his chin to look at me, and washed away the dirt and bits of dried blood. His hair was a mess of matted tangles, trapping my fingers as I combed them through it. He closed his eyes and placed his left hand lightly on my hip and I wondered when the last time he had really been cared for. He leaned into my touch as I worked, obviously not minding the delay in having his dressing redone. He had a bloody trail down the center of his chest. I knelt before him, one hand braced on the smooth skin of ribs, free from the scar of Randall’s brand, while the other washed the the planes of his abs.

He was so strong. Each muscle so clearly defined. My hands and eyes traced his biceps and I watched in fascination as his muscles twitched as I worked to remove the dirt worked into the crease of his elbow. His hand was whole. No bones had been shattered, there were no scar lines. I ran the cloth from elbow to fingertip, and he let his arm rest lightly in the palm of my hand. Our wrists were touching, like they had in the handfasting ceremony his hand lightly gripping my arm, fingers tracing small patterns on my skin.

It was a tender moment, completely ruined by the door flying open and Mrs. Fitz bustling in with a tray of food.

“Well, he’s looking more respectable by the minute. Eat up and call out if ye need anymore. We have plenty here.”

 

* * *

  
_**Jamie**_

 

I would have pulled her into my lap and kissed her senseless, if Mrs. Fitz hadn’t interrupted us. That was probably for the best. The lass was too good and kind to be roughed up by a wild man such as myself.

No one had ever touched me as she did. My heart was filled near to bursting. I wanted to make her mine, even though I had naught to offer any lass. Especially not an educated English woman, lost though she may be.

The tray of food was set beside me on the hearth, cups of steaming broth, bread, meat and cheese. Warm ale and a pot of tea. I slipped off the stool, settling in to serve the both of us. I ken I was starved, and she as well. Mrs. Fitz had agreed before leaving us once more that the lass wasn’t much more than skin and bones. Maybe she had run away?

“Jamie,” I smiled when she said my name, even if she did sound exasperated. “ I mean, umm, Mr. MacTavish”

“Dinna fash, Jamie’s fine.”

“Jamie then. Why are you on the floor?”

“It’s where the food is.” I broke off a piece of bread, holding it out to her in the hand she had been so fixated on earlier. She let out a laugh and took the bread, kneeling at my side. She ate a piece of meat and a another piece of bread turning back to tending me. Her eyebrows knit in concentration as she started working the bandage free from my shoulder. She was far gentler than the monks of the abbey had been. A fair sight prettier too.

I tried not to grin like a wolfhound when she accepted the bit of cheese I placed in her mouth. She continued poking, pressing, and fussing with the the hole in my shoulder, even when I kept feeding her, and I wondered at the companionship she must have shared with her husband. If the fine gold band was any indication she had married a wealthy gentleman. A merchant most likely, I couldna see an English lord letting his lady alone in Scotland. Though she also wore a simple iron band on her right hand. Had she abandoned a fine family and married a crofter then? And now was she abandoned by both?

“You have a good touch.” She smiled at me as she finished tying the last knot, and I ventured further, prying into her life. “Your husband is a lucky man.” The smile melted right off her bonny face.

“Mistress.” I reached out for her and at least she didn’t shrink away. “Mistress Beauchamp, what’s wrong.” She didn’t answer and I continued, knowing I would go to hell for hoping she was widowed, “Is it your husband, is he no alive then?”

I couldna tell what she said after that. I dinna ken they were words at all. I leaned in and gathered her close, my shoulder pained me for doing so, but I ignored it. She made small sounds, so full of grief, I ken something verra bad had befallen her, something much worse than being shot in the shoulder. She fitted in my arms like she was meant to be there and I held her carefully, stroking her hair, whispering promises that I had no business making.

 

* * *

 

_**Claire** _

 

“Shhh...gràidh.”

He had been holding me for some time. Whispering softly in Gaelic, seemingly content to hold me, despite his growing arousal. He made no move to progress things from cuddling into necking, and I had begun debating the merits of making an advance of my own when I realized he was falling asleep. It seemed once I quieted down, he adopted me as his own personal teddy bear. His good arm was holding me tight to his chest, the injured one had ended up resting on my stomach. I had the absurd notion to speak aloud, to tell our unborn child that this was man was also her father. The pregnancy complicated things, it made me fearful for his reaction, and the repercussions for the future of the child. I tried to dredge my memories for the exact story I had concocted for Colum, and what bits I should change to suit my changed circumstances. I needed him to keep me in the castle, to reinstate me in the Beaton’s surgery. I supposed I could deal with a little less suspicion on Dougal’s part.

I sat, staring at the fire wondering what my next move should be. I was trapped in his arms and inside his plaid. The plaid was a magical entity I decided. It normally hung loosely, nearly to the man’s ankles, and trailed behind him, exaggerating his movements, giving him extra flair and grace. Other times it served as a blanket, flowing up from the ether to cocoon us, like now. I suppose a lifetime of wearing one had given Jamie an advantage in it’s arrangement. I myself could barely keep my skirts in hand, even after accustoming myself to the monstrosities that were the fashion in Paris, these simple skirts were always getting in my way. He on the other-hand was always in control of the fabric, willing it to conform to his wishes. I shouldn’t be jealous, especially when I was so snugly tucked in.

The door opened again, and Mrs. Fitz shook her head and clucked her tongue at me. Why was it that Mrs. Fitz could give me the ‘disappointed mother’ look, and not see that her granddaughter, a known trollop, was in dire need of restraint. Perhaps if she could direct her eagle-eyed gaze in Laohaire’s direction Jamie and I would be saved some grief. I debated on explaining that compassion was an integral part of nursing or making up some sort of excuse involving days riding together and the bonds that might have formed. In the end I decided to say nothing unless she brought it up herself. She did not. She did however explain that I was to see ‘Himself’ as soon as I could be made ready.

I worked my way out of Jamie’s arms, fussing some with the injured arm before following her out of the room. The days of hard riding, blood loss and the concoction of herbal tea had put him completely under. I had to hope he would wake on his own and move to the bed sometime soon, otherwise his back and neck might be permanently crooked.

We passed Murtagh and a brief conversation entirely made of quick quiet Gaelic was had, pointedly excluding me. Was she telling him how she had found me? Was he telling her what I had done to Randall? He was protective of Jamie, but she was protective of the whole clan. If either convinced the other that I was a danger, nothing I could do would stop them from turning me out. A quick dinna fash to myself, and he was marching off toward the room and the man I had just extricated myself from. I sighed in relief, they hadn’t turned on me yet.

 

* * *

  
_**Jamie**_

 

Murtagh was standing over me when I came to. I was slumped against the stone fireplace, bare chested but for the plaid draped over my body. Claire was gone and I gave a quick thanks to St. Agnes that I had passed out from exhaustion instead of taking her right there on the floor. I wondered if Murtagh could see my thoughts because he shook his head before crouching down to my level.

He took a long look at the herbs, kettles and strips of cloth arrayed on the hearth. “The lass looks to be a bonny healer.”

“Aye.” I said, thinking to her gentle fingers running through my hair, down my face, chest and arms. “I much prefer her to the monks. She is not so rough.”

“Hmph. I’m sure she is soft, like a thistle, with spines to prick you, if you’re no too careful.”

I considered those words. It was true, she had been prickly to Dougal and the other men. She was all softness with me, even when she scolded me and tried to get her way, she wasna prickly.

“Do you remember your time in the Abbey?” He asked, redirecting my thoughts.

“No’ so much. Some verra strange dreams. I dinna think I like being on the laudanum.” He chewed on that a moment before bringing up Lallybroch. It was no something I wished to dwell on. Even if the defector, Horrocks, could help me clear my name, how could I face my home again, knowing what had happened to Jenny. And, as if thinking of her had released a damn in Murtagh, he began peppering me with questions about my childhood.

“Jenny called you Sawney, when you were a wee bairn?” he asked with a strange gleam in his eyes.

“No. William did. What’s this about, do you no think I should stay at Leoch?” He said he no, that wasn’t why he was asking, and I finally asked how long I had been sleeping, eager to move away from the subject of my family.

“I dinna ken that. But, if you be asking how long since the bonny Mistress Beauchamp left ye, well, that would be nigh on five hours ago.”

“Has Colum spoken to her then?” I asked, ignoring the implied accusation on Murtagh’s face. He might be my godfather, and the closest kin I had here, but that did no mean I needed to share all and sundry with him.

He nodded before continuing. “The MacKenzie is going to let her stay. She’s a fair healer. Providence threw the lassie this way, and he is not one to let opportunity pass him by. Leoch needs a new Beaton, even if she is a sassenach.”

“Where is she now?”

“A Dhia…” He looked to the ceiling before turning on his heel, stomping out of the room.

* * *

 

I made my way down to the hall, I didna wish to miss dinner, and I had some hopes of seeing Mistress Beauchamp as well. I gathered my plate and scanned the room for the lass. She wouldn’t ken anyone else here, and there was no joy in eating alone with so many strangers about. Auld Alec was motioning for me to join him, ensuring I’d have an evening full of horses instead of bonny English lassies. I was fully surprised when, after briefly mentioning that Dougal wanted me up in the stables, he shifted focus from his mares to the upcoming gathering. It would seem that he also had advice of a political nature to impart. I sighed heavily. I had no desire to become mired in the machinations of Castle Leoch. I would have rathered the horses.

A wave of quiet washed across the hall as Mistress Beauchamp, now properly attired, began walking towards the Laird’s table. Her head was held high, unintimidated by the curious glances cast her way. She glided to a stop, curtsying, and Dougal sat her between himself and Colum. I watched, along with half the hall, as she partook in the stilted conversation directed at her. She didna eat much before gracefully taking her leave and I followed behind as quick as I could.

“Jamie.”

I stopped, stowing the food I had taken in my sporran, and turned towards the somber face of Dougal. He smelled of herbs and women’s perfume and I wondered if the lass he was bedding was soft like Claire.

“Dougal.”

“The Sassenach is a most extraordinary woman.” he began without preamble. “One might expect a whore to lay flat on her back all day,” he gave me a wolfish smile and a wink, and I tensed at the implication. “Ach laddie, don’t get your dander up. She’ll no be needing you to ride in on your white horse to save her.” he paused, looking me up and down critically, “Though, she does favor you more than the rest of us. Friendly even?”

I nodded, keeping my face carefully blank. It would not do to let Dougal know I had any preference towards the lass.

“Good. I had thought to send you to the stables, but I think you would better serve Clan MacKenzie by learning more about Mistress Beauchamp. Colum wishes the lass to stay, see to it you give her some encouragement.” He took me by the shoulders, in a fatherly embrace that felt anything but familial, and began elaborating on ways I could entice the wee sassenach lassie to stay. He left me at the entryway to the stableyard, with a nod of his head and a final grab at his crotch. I had just turned my back on him when he called out.

“Dinna fash laddie, she’s been living with the French for so long I doubt she ken what to expect of a real man.”

I continued, focused on regaining my bed, and ignoring his barbs. Dougal wanted me close to the lass, but to what end. I couldna see how forcing advances of that nature would make her do aught but want to flee. She’d already barely escaped the unwanted attentions of the English dragoons, she’d surely no appreciate them from a penniless Scot. Was it then his intention to shame me in front of Colum? If the sassenach healer was his new favorite, he would no look kindly on my trespassing on her person.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” along with a crash and a small shriek echoed up the stone walls. I retraced my steps, coming to a sturdy door where more mutterings could be heard.

“Sassenach?” I called into the dusty chamber.

“I had forgotten about those.” came the reply, but I thought it more a comment to oneself, rather than a reply to me.

“Mistress Beauchamp?”

“Bloody hell!” She exclaimed, “Jamie, what are you doing here. I thought I was alone down here.”

“Ah, I heard a ruckus and came to investigate, ya ken.” I looked around the dusty space, wondering what business she had in this dank corner of the castle. It was spacious, with a grand fireplace that took up near to a whole wall. There were windows facing east, though they provided little light now. Candles, books and jars were haphazardly stacked about the room. Claire was standing by a large table, dust motes floated around her, like so many tiny faeries. Her hair had been done up with soft ringlets framing her face, placed there to tempt men such as myself, surely. Her chest was still heaving, and I wondered what had frightened her so.

“Lass?”

“Oh, they startled me, that’s all.” She pointed sheepishly towards the ground, where the shattered remains of a jar lay among a few dozen bugs. “Devilish things, trying to make an escape even now!”

“Your servant, madam.” I bowed formally to her, before picking up the offending creatures.


	3. Said the Spider to the Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is working to change the future & Jamie is falling in love.

_**Claire** _

I awoke in my new chambers feeling bereft. I missed my husband. At least while on the road I had an excuse to remain ensconced in Jamie’s arms. Now that we were in the castle there was very little I could do to encourage him without looking like a woman of loose morals. Running my hands down my still flat stomach I wondered at exactly how long I had until I began showing. The clothing of the day would help hide some of the roundness but a second child was apparent earlier. I had a few weeks at least, to forge a friendship and find some way to compel Jamie to marry me, without the intervention of the English army.

I groaned remembering that Mrs. Fitz would be arriving every morning to help me bathe and dress. She had not stopped helping until Jamie and I had returned married. There was little I could do to hide a pregnancy in the nude. She was a kind woman, but she worked in the heart of the castle and any change in my condition would likely be gossip throughout the castle before the midday meal.

I had told Colum that I was a widower from Oxfordshire, but had not lived there in many years. My uncle had spent some time in the highlands, and I along with him as a girl. He was the one who had introduced me to the famed Beatons. I of course, being so young, did not remember whose lands we had been on at the time. It was during this encounter I had been introduced to the art of healing, and after my husband passed, I further refined my skill in Paris. After a few years under the tutelage of some nuns, I had traveled to the north of France. I named the area where Jamie had been staying, hoping that when the time came, Colum would assume Jamie and I had been in each other’s company. If he suspected anything his face didn’t show it. The man would have made an excellent poker player I thought ruefully. I explained that I encountered a band of gypsies headed for the Scottish highlands. I joined the group, eager to see a place that held such charm for me as a child. The gypsies, being a disreputable lot, had stolen my belongings, stranding me outside of Inverness.

My story this time was more flamboyant, but still uncheckable in all of the particulars, and in a roundabout way true. Changing the story was a gamble, but the risk was well worth the reward.

 

* * *

_**Jamie** _

“Are you waiting for me soldier?” Claire asked, smiling lightly at me. Her hair tumbled down from the crown of her head and small ringlets framed her face. I barely stopped myself from reaching out and pulling one of them. A Dhia, I was worse than a bahlaich in leading strings. I had woken in my new chambers burning for Claire. Wanting that round arse wedged between my thighs. Two days of riding together had left me with terrible cockstand, and yet I wanted no’ more than to do it all over again.

“Aye, I would be a poor friend if I dinna see you safely to the kitchens. That and I promised Mrs. Fitz I would share this” I pulled a small jar of berry jam from my sporran, “with you, and I canna do that if I dinna have you wi’ me.”

“What is it?”

“Join me, and find out.” I offered her my arm, which she took, and led her through the twisting passageways of the old castle. She was quiet this morning, and I wondered if it would no be proper to ask her how she slept.

The smells of a fine morning feast were wafting into the hall when Claire stopped abruptly, pulling her hands from mine. “Sassenach?” I asked, turning to face her. Her eyes were closed and her hands were forming wee fists at her side. She startled at the when I placed my hands on her shoulders and I couldna help but feel my heart shatter. Such a brave lassie, and yet, she was no in a verra safe place. English were no often welcome in the Highlands, she must ken the truth of it.

“Ye need not be scairt of me nor of anyone else here. So long as I’m with ye.” I said, hoping I she would believe me. I was big, bigger than most about the clan, but Claire had no seen me fight. She only ken that I was injured twice while the others had nary a scratch between them. That alone would no put much confidence in my claim.

“Thank you Jamie,” She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and placed her hand over my heart. “I'm just a little overwhelmed I guess. I just need a minute to breath and I'll be right as rain.”

* * *

Claire sat beside me, looking out at the families milling about, waiting patiently as I filled her plate. I had settled us in the corner of the hall, as far from the main crush as I could.

“Slainte Mhath” A soft voice said behind me.

“Mahadain Mhath” I replied, turning to see a young lass curtsying shyly. I waved my hand, welcoming her to the table before turning to Claire and asking if she had any Gaelic.

Some,” she agreed, dark curls bouncing as she nodded, “Mahadain Mhath is Good Morning. Understanding a conversation is still beyond me. I can't pick up much more than greetings and the insults Ang...I mean, I learned some less than complimentary phrases traveling.”

I smiled at that, amused at what ribald phrases she did ken. The lassie who had joined the table was obviously no of the same mind. She was frowning, murmuring in Gaelic that she was surprised a sassenach ken any Gaelic.

The lass had been in the kitchens working earlier, I ken Mrs. Fitz would no take kindly to such comments coming from one o’ her staff. I wouldna want to see her punished, especially as Claire had not been hurt by the words. Hopefully I could show her how it felt to no understand what someone was saying.

“Parlez-vous français?” I asked Claire, pointedly excluding the lass beside me.

“Oui. Je vivais en France depuis de nombreuses années.” I was surprised at how perfect her accent was. I asked her a few more questions, testing her grasp of the language, enjoying the sound of her speaking. She could nearly be a native speaker.

Claire had been in the middle of a sordid tale, involving a dripping wet French aristocrat in the King’s court, when the girl interrupted again, asking, in English, if I liked bein’ back at Leoch.

I nodded once to the young lass before turning back to Claire, eager to hear if Frenchman’s wig was found, but the she continued continued, “I remember when you were here before.”

“Do ye then? You canna have been more than seven or eight yourself. I’d not think I was much to see then, so as to be remembered.” I turned back to Claire, handing her a warm bannock with the prized berry jam when the girl interrupted us again.

“Well, I do remember though, you were, er, ah … I mean … do ye not remember me, from then?”

“Ah?” I shrugged my shoulders apologetically. “No, I dinna think so. Still, I wouldna be like to. A young burke of sixteen’s too taken up wi’ his own grand self to pay much heed to what he thinks are naught but a rabble of snot-nosed bairns.”

The girl looked a bit like she had bit into a sour fruit at that, and I did feel for a moment that maybe I had been a bit rougher than I meant, but, when I looked back at Claire’s bonnie face, I couldna seem to mind.

“Has the castle changed much, since you were here last?” Claire asked sipping her tea.

“No, not so far as I have seen. Did ye grow up in a place like this?”

She laughed, looking around at the castle. “No, my childhood was so different from this as to not be believed, I think.”

“Is it so verra different in England then?”

“Well, no, I wouldn’t say so. My uncle took me in after my parents died. I was quite young, and he didn’t know what to do with me. He had no wife of his own, he was a scholar, completely dedicated to his studies. My childhood wasn’t spent in sewing rooms and parlors, but traveling by elephant and camel across deserts.”

She told me about her life as a little girl. This uncle who showed her the world. They were fond memories, and I was pleased she would share so much of herself wit’ me.

* * *

Claire hummed while she worked.

Between tending to the sprains and scrapes that came to her door she filled the room with melodies that I had no heard before. Only stopping when she found a bottle she was particularly displeased with. Then she would furrow her brow, and quietly say that no even the ‘Germans’ would use mouse’s ears or horses dung on their prisoners.’ I dinna ken who Germans was, nor what half of the bottles and jars held, but I stacked them by the stairs as she asked.

“Well, this is all we can do for now. I’ll always need more herbs of course, but I think I’m finally done clearing out all of this junk!” she said with a triumphant smile.

“I’ll take ye to the garden tomorrow then, if it’s no raining.” I offered. I’d wake early and ask Mrs. Fitz where I should take Claire.

“Will you have time? Don’t you have to go to the stables? I mean, umm, I thought Dougal said that was where he was sending you. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”

“Ah, no. Seein’ as I’m still healing, Dougal asked me to escort you about. He didna wish ye to get lost.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at me skeptically, as if she ken what Dougal had actually asked me to do.

“Oh, well then. I suppose I should thank him for his generosity.”

* * *

  
_**Claire** _

I had never been quite so thankful of the poor fitting construction caused by handmade equipment as I had when looking at the poor boy’s arm before me.

His father, a robust man of advanced age, had come upon Jamie and I while on our daily herb scavenger hunt. He had related his tale in the frantic Gaelic of a worried parent, which Jamie faithfully recounted in English for me. A young lad had been working about the mill, and somehow had snagged a coat sleeve between two of the great mechanical sprocket wheels that powered the grinder. In my mind I had pictured the total loss of limb I had seen from a mechanic whose arm had been trapped in a factory assembly. In stark contrast to the typical disadvantages displayed by living in pre-industrial times, the damage I found, while still severe, was not nearly as catastrophic. Whether they had been worn down by use or a result of the simple rudimentary construction available at the time; the imprecise nature of the mill’s gears saved this boy’s arm. He was a bloody mess with both the radius and the ulna broken, as well two of the small bones in his hand, but the arm would not have to be amputated. I was able to set all of the bones, and barring a significant future growth spurt, I doubted he would suffer any ill effects from entire encounter. I had impressed upon the boy and his father the importance of keeping the contusions free of dirt and as clean as possible and instructed them to come to me immediately if they noticed any swelling or if wounds became purulent.

We had been at Leoch at least week, and this had been my first patient with more than a sprained ankle. I wondered what had happened to the boy last time. I had been in the castle, as a guest, but I hadn’t yet taken up my role as clan healer. Had his family simply fended for themselves, had the boy survived at all? There was certainly no way for me to tell now, and I did have bigger things to worry over, like hiding my morning sickness from Mrs. Fitz’s band of merry maids and winning Jamie’s heart.

He had been my constant companion most of the days I had been at Leoch. He was a gifted horseman, and his talents were wasted with me. But, I much prefered having him around, despite the necessity of hiding my condition. He attended me while I was in the surgery, and assisted me while I went to pick herbs. I put his broad shoulders to work grinding dried herbs and hoped that he didn’t mind the task too much.

If anything, he seemed restrained in taking our relationship further. I wondered if he had been so handsy during my first stay at Leoch. Certainly he was less tactile than after we were married, but I couldn’t clearly recall how he had behaved before. Now though, I noticed he touched me quite a bit. Crossing the hall or leading me across a field required at least my hand in his. If there were more than a dozen people in a space he was likely to place a guiding hand at the small of my back as well.

* * *

Jamie had been called away by Murtagh, leaving me to my own devices for much of the day. Geilis must have been waiting for me to appear alone, because not one minute after I entered the herb garden alone did she pounce, and now she was now stuck on me like glue. She insisted we attend the ‘hall’ after leading me about the fallow fields in search of wild yarrowroot. I had obliged her, we had been friends of a sort, and she had sacrificed herself for me at the end. I wasn’t sure if that sacrifice offset her poisoning her husband, but, I had killed men as well. I’m sure she had her justifications, even if I didn’t believe in them.

The brightly lit hall was full to brimming with clansmen, women and children awaiting Chief Colum MacKenzie’s entrance. I had been to dozens of these hall’s, watching as Colum meted out justice. As a general rule I tried to avoid them, but, on days when Angus had been indisposed, and with Rupert serving as enforcer, I had been compelled to sit through any number of disputes over property, cows, sheep and children.

I had forgotten how enjoyable her rather dark sense of humor could be. Sarcasm, now that I understood where it was coming from, made her less a specter of evil, and more a woman trapped, like myself. I laughed as she made light of many of the offences while translating the proceedings for me.  
As the afternoon wore on I suddenly remembered that my first experience had ended with Jamie bruised and battered. My stomach rolled at the thought of what was to come. Jamie would stand up and defend Laohaire, earning her lust filled regard and ensuring her hatred of me. The witch trial that would follow and our subsequent flight from the safety of Leoch. I felt like the ground had opened up below me, if I could stop this moment from happening, could I save Jamie from being recaptured a year from now? I had to do something, to get him out of here.

Jamie had entered the hall but remained with Murtagh. He glanced my way often enough, but he had yet to approach. Had Murtagh warned him off?

“Does Dougal know?” I asked, turning to Geillis.

“About what?” she responded, mischief glinting in her eyes.

I couldn’t trust her, but perhaps I could use her.I would have prefered to not bandy about with premonitions of the future, but I knew of few ways to shock the woman. She was only 40 years younger than myself, strange as that was to think about. Even assuming she was already pregnant with Dougal’s child, I didn’t think that would be enough to get a reaction out of her.

“Hitler.” I let the name roll off my tongue quietly as I handed her my glass of rhenish.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Whatever retort she had been planning silenced by what I had just covertly announced. The glass in her hand dropped to the floor shattering and I stepped back avoiding the wine as it spilled on the floor. Jamie’s head snapped in my direction, along with half the clansmen gathered around us. I made eye contact, attempting to look frightened, as Geillis reached and latched onto my arm, jerking my body back towards hers. Jamie surged from across the room, immediately ready to come to my aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments!


	4. Friends and Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie makes the first move.

  
_**Jamie** _

* * *

 

“Are ye cold?” I asked, as we wound our way through the empty courtyard just beyond the smithy. My excuse for bringing her out here, into the damp cold afternoon, had long vacated his post for the entertainment provided inside the keep, but Claire made no indication she wanted to head back inside.

“A little” Claire said, smiling while shivering mightily.

“I’m sorry lass, I dinna think to find ye a cloak before we left.” I was standing to her left, blocking the gusty wind coming up from the south wondering what had happened between her and the fiscal’s wife.

“Well, there’s nothing for it now.” She said somberly. “Although, I do remember a time, in weather quite like this,” she added, waving her hands about and grinning mirthfully, “where I had no cloak, and yet I was quite warm.”

“Oh aye,” I agreed, taking that for the invitation it was. I stepped closer, wrapping my plaid about us both and she gladly took refuge in my arms. Her hair had come undone from its pins and was blowing about both of our faces.

“My god you’re like a blast furnace.”

“A what?” I asked, and she immediately stiffened, pushing away from me.

“Ah Sassenach...” I said, pulling her back against my chest, not willing to give her a chance to escape to the crowded castle, cold be damned. “Dinna fash lassie, as long as you are no insulting me, I dinna mind what you call me. I am curious though, as to how you met the Mistress Duncan.”

“You might think I’m silly for thinking it, but, it was as if she was waiting for me. She just popped up the minute I appeared in the garden alone. Do you know her well?”

“Only through hearsay. I ken she dabbles in herbs, aiding the sick and the like. She is the fiscal’s wife for many years, and he is well respected, but the God fearing folk keep their distance from her on Sunday.” I added, by way of warning. Mistress Duncan did have a reputation about the village and in the keep, and I would no want it to bleed into Mistress Beachamp’s.

“That’s not quite a sterling recommendation.” She replied, as if reading my mind. “I’m wary of her already, don’t fret. I know to keep my friends close, enemies closer, and all that Jazz.”

I furrowed my brow at the odd word, but didn’t ask the meaning. “Do ye think she ken Dougal would be keeping me with him all day, that she was aware you were to be alone?”

“I thought you were with Murtagh.”

“It was Murtagh who fetched me, aye, but it was Dougal wanted me to attend him.” I explained.

“His attention worried you?”

“Aye, he is my uncle, ye ken, and he would no harm a fellow clansmen, but, with things as they are,” I sighed, trying to find a way to explain the warring goals Dougal might have.

“It’s alright, Jamie, you don’t have to tell me. It’s clan business, isn’t it.”

“Ah lass, it’s my business, and my right to tell you about it, but not so close to the castle walls,” I said as I lead her out and away from the courtyard and into the privacy of the open southern fields before explaining how I had come to have a price on my head. She listened as we walked, seemingly undisturbed by the fact she was alone with an accused murderer.

“My mother was the MacKenzie’s elder sister,” I added, “but my lands are no MacKenzie lands. There is a pass through the mountains, which is verra important to Dougal. But, if the British hang me, well the lands, including the pass to the highlands will go to my father’s father. And the MacKenzie clan will no have easy access to it.”

“Don’t say things like that.” Claire said with a fierceness I hadn’t expected, stopping our progression down the hill, “You are safe here, at Leoch?”

“Aye, I am safe from the British.”

“And the rest?”

“Hamish, my cousin, is heir to Clan MacKenzie. And he is verra young, ye ken and he would no make a strong laird, not for several more years yet, which makes Dougal uneasy. Hamish is a good lad, but those around the castle see him still playing at swords, like today, they canna see him as a leader.”

“What happened today?”

“Dougal wanted to fight me, to show young Hamish the swords.”

“But you’re still hurt! Please tell me you haven’t re-injured that shoulder.”

“Dinna fash lass, my shoulder is fine. Young Hamish is like Dougal and I,” I said waving my left hand, “but he has yet to master fighting on the right. Dougal wanted to show him that even an experienced swordsman was at a disadvantage when fighting with his left.”

“You were the disadvantaged left-handed swordsman, I take it?”

“Aye.” I smiled as she huffed a conciliatory sigh.

“Well,” Claire said, “I’m sure having you look like a weaker swordsman reassures him quite a bit. So, on the one hand Dougal thinks you are a threat to a favorable succession and on the other hand he needs you for control of this mountain pass?”

I nodded in agreement and wondered if Colum’s wife was half as clever as Claire.

“You are a complicated man, Mr. MacTavish.”

* * *

**_Claire_ **

* * *

 

The rain had come upon us suddenly. We had been speaking of clan politics, and dancing around our separate speculations of Geillis and Dougal. He was naturally suspicious of ‘the witch,’ and of his uncle, while I could speculate that they were colluding, it wasn’t anything I could bring up with Jamie. Not yet at least. He told me far more of his story this time as well, if it was because of the privacy afforded us being away from the stables or because he trusted me more, I couldn’t say. Either way, the more information he gave me now made it less likely I would appear to know ‘too much’ later.

Then the weather had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Going from gusty to sodden in mere minutes, leaving Jamie and I wholly drenched by the time we made it back to the keep. He had deposited me at my door an hour earlier, full of apologies for first leading me outside in the cold, and then letting the rain sneak up on us. Now, he was standing in front of me once more, startled and adorably flustered.

“Mistress Beauchamp!”

“Jamie.” I answered smiling, hoping to set him at ease.

“I was worrit when I could not find ye at dinner, no one had seen ye since we returned, and with ye getting soaked through, I dinna wish for you catch cold.” he shrugged, ducking his head.

“Thank you, really, I’m fine.” I gestured to the tray he was carrying, “What’s all this?” It looked like he had thoroughly raided Mrs. Fitz’s pantry before coming to check on me.

“I couldna let ye go hungry, and I found some of the ginger you were searching for last night, for tea.” He stopped his explanation suddenly, blushing brightly, “But I see ye are no ready for company, I’ll leave this with ye.”

“You will do no such thing. There’s plenty for the both of us, please, share it with me.”

“I canna do that. Ye are wearing...” I put my hand to his mouth, silencing him. Feeling bold, and a little desperate I entreated him to stay. I was wearing the dressing gown Letitia had gifted me. It wasn’t so fine as the satin gowns I had worn in Paris, but it was soft and warm, and it covered me from neck to toes. Jamie’s modesty would be preserved.

“Well, if you know what I’m wearing, then the damage is already done. Please, stay.”

He shook his head, saying “It’s no verra proper.” even as he stepped into the sitting room. He muttered something under his breath, I thought it might have been Gaelic for ‘temptress,’ but I wasn’t quite sure. “Aye. Sassenach, I’ll join ye.”

* * *

Jamie was alternating between picking at crumbs of our shared dinner and fiddling with the edges of his lawn shirt. I wondered if the bandages had been soaked through and were now bothering him, or if he was healed enough for them to be removed entirely. The dinner had been an echo of so many meals we had shared as a married couple. The easy banter was a balm to my soul, and I was relaxed enough to nearly forget he wasn’t my husband.

“Here, let me.” I stood, half forgetting myself, moving around the table to investigate.

“It’s fine Sassenach.” was the only protest he gave. He was completely motionless as I undid the neckcloth, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and loosened the ties of his shirt. I couldn’t look him in the eyes, but I felt the weight of his gaze as my fingers brushed his shoulder. The fabric of my dressing gown brushed the inside of his leg, and he reached out, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Will I live?” he asked as I bent closer to examine his shoulder and neck.

I smiled at him, “Oh yes, you’ve a long life yet.”

Then, he was kissing me. Warm, strong hands wrapping around my waist, pulling to him. We each laughed when he overbalanced me and I fell into his lap.

“I should no be doin’ this.”

I could feel his body straining under mine, the little movements he made, attempting to gain pressure and friction beneath his kilt. That tension, caused by a Catholic upbringing, which would not allow him to go much further than where we were now.

“Ye make me lose all sense Sassenach.”

I kissed his jaw, teasing him.

“Christ lass. You dinna realize the danger you are in.”

“I trust you to keep me safe, even from yourself.”

“That’s no an easy thing to ask of a man.”

“You aren’t just any man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me. This chapter was way shorter than I had intended, but I want you all to know that I'm still out here, and that I haven't abandoned you or this story. Thank you all for the comments of encouragement that you love the story and want to know what happens next - they are great lights in the darkness that has been my life the past few months.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it.


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